The (Figgy) Campaign
by IllegallyBlonde
Summary: Figgy political AU. Nick Fang is a campaign manager attempting to get Lissa Wallace into office. If he just so happens to fall for her hot best friend in the mean time, so be it. Includes Starbucks, lesbian weddings, and political assassination. Except not the assassination. Rated T for strong language.
1. Chapter 1

_For me, this ship started out as crack. However, over time, I have somehow written a multi-chapter story about a ship that is still pure crack to me. This does have actual plot though, and it's going to be a wild ride if you stick with it._

_This story is dedicated to the amazing VampireRide. You are the only thing that keeps me on this site, and thank you for sending me messages that remind me that human contact is a good thing when all I want to do is hide under my blankets reading Coliver fanfiction on Ao3. I love you forever and ever and hope with all my heart that you someday move on from Jandom because that shit's never going to happen._

_Warning for language and me trying to pretend I know how politics work. If anyone wants to help on that front, I'd be greatly obliged._

* * *

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Fang."

The redhead that sat across from him had delicate features, but Nick knew better than to let a woman's looks deceive him. She wore bright red lipstick that should have clashed with her hair, but somehow complimented it instead. The dress she was outfitted in was designer, gucci or prada- Nick wasn't fashion savvy, but he was aware that his mental narrative was starting to sound eerily like a black and white detective movie.

"Of course, Ms. Wallace. I'm still a bit lost as to why you've chose this location, however."

Nick gestured widely, encompassing the wooden counters, plush leather chairs, and bakery displays. They were at Starbucks, one of the nicer ones in D.C. and his seventeen-year-old sister's home away from home. But that still didn't make up for the fact that they were surrounded by teenaged hipsters and business people who rushed in and out of the coffee shop. The indie music playing softly on the speakers combined with complicated coffee orders being spewed out not even twenty feet away was starting to give him a headache.

"The caramel macchiatos, of course." She paused to take a sip of her drink and give him a small smirk. "I also find that people of our profession don't usually frequent this sort of place."

Nick nodded. "And those that do acquire their caffeine here don't typically recognize politicians unless they're the president of the United States."

Lissa folded her arms, all humor fading from her face. "And that brings us to the matter I called you here to discuss."

"The president of the United States? If this is about setting up an assassination attempt, while I do know a guy I could set you in contact with, I'm not personally down for that."

He only got a hint of a smile. "We both know that there's an election coming up, Mr. Fang. We both also know that you were responsible for how far Clinton got in the race a few years back. Now, Clinton's not running this year, but that doesn't mean that it's not time to get some lady parts in the oval office."

Nick's eyebrows rose, but he kept his face blank. Setting down his coffee, he asked, "And you think you should be those lady parts?"

"I do." She looked at him evenly and he sighed.

"Look, Wallace, I like you. I do. But Clinton was well known and a great woman and she didn't even make it. I understand how it feels to be-"

"You look, Fang. I know that you're mixed and because of that you have gone through things that I'll never understand. I don't mean to belittle that or anything, but being a woman is_ so_ much worse. You have deal with men constantly defining what you can and cannot do, sexualizing you, telling you to let the big boys handle things, playing any argument off as it being your time of the month. So, while you might understand some of that, you will never know exactly what it took for me to get where I am. I am running for office with or without you. What I need to know is if you are in or not."

.Fang looked around the coffee shop. This was not the ideal place to talk about this, but Wallace had been smart in picking a public place where it would be harder for him to stall. There was a line forming and a meek looking busboy kept passing their table throwing looks at their nearly empty drinks. It was time to end this.

"If you're serious-"

She gave him a look. "Deadly fucking serious."

"Then there's something you should know about me before we begin. I'm not saying that it will, but… in my previous experience a few close minded people have tried to use my preferences against me."

"Mr. Fang, I think I understand what you're trying to say to me. And I wouldn't have thought you were when you first walked into this fine establishment, but seeing as you haven't looked at my chest once, I'm starting to see it."

Nick snorted out a laugh at that. "I take it you don't really care."

"Hell no, Fang. We'll crush any misogynistic, homophobic asshole that tries to stand in our way." She stopped for a moment and laughed. It was full and bright and made him like her a even more. "Damn, I'm going to have to quit swearing once I start my campaign, won't I?"

Fang gave her a wry smile. "I'm afraid so, Ms. Wallace."

She stood and put on her coat, getting ready to step into the frigid February air. "If we're going to be working together for the next several months, I think that we should call each other by our given names, Nick."

She held out her hand and he gave her an admiring look. "I'll be seeing you soon, Lissa."

She made her way towards the door, stopping about halfway there are turning around. "Oh, and Nick? There's probably something that you should know about me: I'm hella gay too."

Lissa gave him a wink and excited the Starbucks. He smirked as he watched her hail a cab through the window and then looked around the building. His smirk slid off his face as he gazed at the many teens on their laptops, taking pictures of their lattes. God, he hated this place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, guys! Thanks for the feedback on the story. Hope you like the chapter. :)**

* * *

Nick stepped into the office and had to refrain from double checking the address Lissa had given him.

A row of chairs that had been past their prime in the eighties were lined up against a wall, and right next to the door was a potted plant that had probably died around that time. Nick would have dumped the rest of his water onto it, but he didn't think it would have done much good. Instead, he bypassed the empty receptionist desk and stepped into the hall, which was in a somewhat better state of repair than the room he had just left.

Nick was slightly skeptical about the aesthetic the designer had gone with for the first floor. The building was already in the seedier part of D.C., and if he hadn't known he was speaking to Lissa, he would have thought he had been given directions to a drug den. He cautiously climbed the stairs; they, at least, looked sturdy enough to hold his weight.

His judgement of the building was halted as a thunderous noise came from above. Nick quickly ran up the remaining steps, only to be stopped by something even more curious than what he had just left.

Mountains of paper surrounded the seven people already in the room. Sheets of white flooded the floor, stopping just before the door that lead to the stairs. Nick picked up the nearest one, scanning the first few lines. _Nudge, shut the fuck up for five minutes and get the rest of us coffee. You can complain about your manicurist to the barista at Starbucks- God know that they probably care more than we do. Also, we have a meeting- _ Nick stopped reading the messy script and glanced back up at the people in front of him. They still hadn't noticed him, but as Ella loved to say, he walked 'like a motherfreaking ninja.'

A dark skinned girl with a stylish afro stood in the center of the room, ranting at an abashed looking boy. Nick guessed that he had been the source of the crash and the papers on the ground. The tan, blond boy opened his mouth a few times, only to close it in vain as afro girl continued talking.

"And this is the third time this week this has happened, so I don't even know why I'm surprised!"

Lissa sat in a chair, looking at another girl in bemusement. The other girl's most noticeable feature was her pastel pink hair and multiple tattoos, but Fang also saw soft brown eyes and warm features framing her nose piercing. She leaned over to whisper quiet words into Lissa's ear. The pale redhead had to bite her lip to keep her amusement hidden.

The only other guy in the room was leaning against the window, his olive skinned arm around a petite brunette. They snickered together as they watched another girl- who looked remarkably like the boy who was being scolded- attempt to pick up the papers. The effort was futile but good natured; Nick couldn't tell if the laughter was.

When he had observed them for some time, Nick let out a discreet cough, alerting the others to his presence.

They turned to him, eyes wide in surprise. The blond guy's face turned a darker shade of red, matching Lissa's hair. The girl who had been yelling at him a moment before was surprisingly quiet now.

Lissa was the first to speak up. "Nick! Um, nice to see you. How long have you, ah, been standing there?"

"Only long enough to see the state of disrepair that the first floor is in and hear the crash that I'm assuming is the cause of this mess."

Lissa sighed, standing and striding over to him. "You can thank Gazzy for that one," she said, pointing to the blond man. "Come on in, and I'll introduce you to everyone."

"Do you want help cleaning this mess up, first?" Nick asked, stepping carefully over a picture of Lissa's face.

"Nah, we can just have Iggy do it when he gets here. I swear, that boy will do anything for a chocolate croissant from the bakery down on you know that it's actually-" The voice came from the dark skinned girl, now sitting on the edge of a desk and filing her nails.

Lissa interrupted her. "Chatterbox over here is Nudge. She's our press secretary and runs all of my social media. Gazzy's head of security, and his sister, Angel- Ange, hun, it's no use, you might as well wait for Iggy to do it- heads fundraising and manages our accounts."

Angel rolled her eyes at Lissa but set the papers down. She gave him a polite but kind smile before Lissa resumed talking. "The two over by Angel, who still don't understand what I mean by no pda in the office, are JJ, tech department, and Luka, legal. And Maya's the last of us. She's in charge of the creative department and being awesome in general. Of course, there's about fifty other people working the campaign, but these are probably the only one's you'll meet. Everyone, this is Nick Fang. I've brought him in as a political consultant and campaign manager."

Luka stared at him quizzically. Nick raised an eyebrow at the boy. "You don't look like a Nick."

For a moment, Nick was unsure of how to reply. "You'll have to take that up with my mother, about twenty seven years ago."

Maya spoke up from the corner, her voice brazen and full of humor. "No, no, he's right. You're much too menacing to be a Nick. We'll all have to call you by your surname, for propriety's sake and all that shit."

A chorus of agreement rose up around the room. Maya looked at him challengingly, silently giving him a test he wasn't sure how to pass. He remained quiet and Lissa shrugged at him in apology.

"At least it's better than Gazzy, right?" She gave him a grin before gesturing at the space around him. "Fang, welcome to our humble abode."

"We should probably discuss that. You do know that this is the part of the city where I worry about getting mugged by one one of the white guys who does coke in an alley, right?"

The grin faded off Lissa's face as she pressed her lips together. "Yes, we are unfortunately aware of that."

"I got mugged the other day," Luka piped up cheerfully.

Nick gave him an odd look. "As your political manager, I believe it's my job to ask why you're running your campaign here of all places."

Lissa picked up a nearby paper, beginning to shred it in her hands. "And as your client, I'd feel obligated to say that we accidentally donated the majority of our money to a charity for children in abusive homes…"

"Are you trying to tell me that you're broke?" Nick stared at her.

Angel coughed. "Well, we're not broke, per say. We have about a quarter of the money we need. But we have enough to pay you, so don't worry about that!"

Nick picked an errant piece of wood out of the door, rolling it around on his fingers when it came free. He thought about his options. He could walk out of the building and leave behind the people in this room, quirks and all. It would definitely be easier. Nick had never really thought easy meant better though.

So he would stick it out. The first problem was the building. Once they went public with Lissa's goal, the media would find out where they were running the campaign and have a field day. No, they needed to find a new place. He would have his intern look into that.

But there was still the problem of money. Nick made a quick decision and then looked back up at the wary faces that were gazing at him. Despite trying to pull off nonchalance, he could see that they all wanted- needed- his help. And for better or for worse, he had always been the kid to rescue wounded animals, even when they had no chance of living.

Taking a deep breath, he began shooting out orders. "Angel, I'm going to need you to make a budget with the money we have left. Nudge, you're in charge of organizing a luncheon with potential backers. Gazzy, try to fix the lock on the door downstairs, I'm kind of worried about getting robbed. Maya, I want to see what you have in the way of slogans and posters in the next ten minutes. JJ? Try to find out what the public's saying about potential candidates. Luka, I'm not really sure what your purpose is, but just find something to do."

He waited for each of them to nod before turning to Lissa. "I'm going to call in a friend, and then we'll talk strategy."

Lissa smirked and he made his way down the stairs. "Good to have you on the team, Fang."


	3. Chapter 3

Note: for the purposes of this story, the age to be qualified for presidency has been changed to 25, for characterization purposes. Also, amodo is spanish for 'darling'.

o.O.o

Nick sat on the porch of his apartment, listening to the persistent din of rain hitting his terrace. His skin was clammy and wet, but with the heady scent of a thunderstorm surrounding him, he was content to sit. He closed his eyes while thunder rumbled in the distance. Nick tried not to let the memories overwhelm him, but when it stormed like it was storming tonight, he usually failed.

The porch door opened behind him. "I know that face, bitch. Tell Momma Max what's wrong." When he didn't respond, not even to roll his eyes, her face melted like butter.

Max spoke again, her voice almost as warm as the blanket she draped over his shoulder as she sat beside him. "Are you thinking about her?"

"I always am," he replied, noting that the words came out as fact rather than the morose sigh they had been years ago, when his mother's death was still a fresh wound.

Nick looked over to the girl beside him, taking in her warm brown eyes, honey blonde hair, and soft features. He had gotten his looks from his dad, that much was obvious, but if he didn't know better, he would have said Max was his mother's daughter. The woman looked so similar to Tara Fang that Nick briefly felt an ache every time he looked at Max. He was long used to it.

If the two women had just looked similar, he may have been able to have brushed it off. However, Nick saw Tara in everything Max did. When he first met Max- at twelve years old and only four months after his mother passed away- he wondered if the magic he had thought Tara possessed when he was younger was somehow real. If it had procured this girl to help heal him or to give mother and son another chance at happiness.

But as he grew, the harsh, but needed, reality set in. He came to see the differences between the two women; where his mother was soft spoken, Max was often brash; Max loved sweets whereas his mother had detested them; he could soon write pages on the various differences between the two, both miniscule and large. He realized it was not fair to either of his loved ones for him to think that they were the same person.

The one thing that solidified his knowledge that Max was not his mother come back to him was the simple fact that she hated storms. His mother had loved them. The two would sit outside, much to his father's disapproval, as she awed him with stories of the ordinary magic that occurred in his city.

Lightning streaked across the sky, a brilliant flash of purple, and Max flinched. He pulled her closer and rested his head on her's. "I remember, when we lived in Philly, how she would tell me about how Franklin caught lightning on a kite. We used to walk around the city, and even though history bored me to death, the happiness on her face when she talked about it was good enough for me."

Max took his hand in her smaller on. "She'd be proud of you Fang. Tara would love that you're helping shape history."

"She would be- if I could actually manage to do that."

A crease formed between his friend's eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?" When Nick remained silent, she grew stern. "Come on, Fang. Don't hold out on me."

Nick rubbed the bridge of his nose and heaved a great sigh. "Honestly? This campaign is a disaster. There is so much wrong that I'm not even sure what to fix."

Max patted Nick's shoulder. He side-eyed her for the condescending gesture. He looked back to the sky as Max tried to hide her smirk. "If anyone could manage to put this train back on it's track it's you, Nick."

"I don't know. Their office is in the seediest part of D.C., they have no funding, the staff is a mess, and then there's Lissa herself; she'd be the youngest president to date, female- I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with that, Max, just that it stacks against us- and she hasn't even decided on a VP yet."

Nick's best friend's smile was as crooked as the lightning flashing behind her. "Well, if you need any help, you could always ask daddy dearest for a little political advice."

The twenty-eight year old scowled. "Ugh. Don't even bring him up. He hasn't talked to me since I brought Ivan to that congress re-election party last month."

"What?!" Max's face was full of indignant outrage on his behalf. "I thought your dad loved Ivan."

"Oh, he does. But he's only okay with Ivan's gender when there aren't cameras around. Ivan told my father off in Russian and I haven't heard from him since."

Max muttered something and Nick shot her a curious look. "I said, 'and I thought I had daddy issues'."

The sound of thunder rumbling at the mention of Jeb Batchelder was like a bad omen. Fang knew all about Max's problems with her father. Whereas Tara had tried her hardest to outgrow her destitute upbringing and fit into high society life, Max was clawing at the bars of the figurative cage that came with being daughter of a billionaire.

"What has he done now?"

Nick had seen many of Max's eyerolls; this one was at least a nine. "Oh, the usual- he's got it in his head that he's going to be the next president."

Nick opened his mouth, but no words came out. Max continued. "Yep. Daddy decided that genetic mutation wasn't a big enough pursuit for him and wanted to try running a country."

"Damn."

They clinked mugs at Nick's utterance. "And he actually expects me to support him publicly. Like I'll be doing that, let alone voting for him."

"All right, Max," Nick said, fishing around in a flower pot and pulling out a small flask. He poured clear liquid into Max's cup. She sniffed it warily before shrugging and taking a sip. "You win the crap parent contest."

"Mhmm," she grunted. "Still, it's a shame about Ivan. He was pretty hot."

Nick nodded mournfully. "Hey. Weren't you supposed to be off with your boy toy tonight?"

"Don't you keep up with the gossip? I broke it off with Sam the other day. And I told you to stop calling him that."

Nick gave her a look. She glared back at him defensively as he began a tired lecture. "Come on, Maxie. He's the third guy in the past two months."

"Save it, Nick." She attempted a jerky shrug. If Nick didn't know better, he would have said she looked vulnerable, and almost… sad. He pulled her closer to him and whispered into her hair.

"It's alright, amado. You'll find them someday."

For a short moment, she leaned into Nick, straightening up before he could be sure whether she actually had or if he had imagined it. Max stood in one quick movement, leaving him sitting alone on the hard cement of the patio. Nick noticed that it had stopped raining.

He could hear Max puttering around in their shared apartment. "I'm going to leave you to mope while I sing loudly to Hasley and see if I can get the neighbors to complain or if they're too afraid of our fathers. Oh, and I can bring you lunch from that one pizza place you like tomorrow. Or we could go to this new steakhouse I heard about, but it's over on Pennsylvania avenue and I kind of wanted to meet your clients after hearing you complain about them."

Max continued to talk, until the loud sound of guitar came out of the speakers in the house. Nick shook his head as he went inside to write apology notes to the other tenants, all the while knowing that the next day would be nothing less than interesting.


End file.
